


Eilishanra

by SocksinSpace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark (?) Fantasy, Fantasy, Have the motivation, I, Longest chapters I've ever written will be here, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Non-Human Main character, a confirmation that yes, because I can't keep writing without a source of motivation, even if they don't like it, people read what I write, the people who read my work are my motivation, to post my book on here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 16:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksinSpace/pseuds/SocksinSpace
Summary: Yhanna is lost among her prideful people, despondent and with no-one to trust but her Mother, Father, and young Friend Ashild. But when tragedy strikes the Huntress's life, she packs her things and runs.





	Eilishanra

**Author's Note:**

> This is my book, put here as It's being written in true fanfiction fashion. I'm super duper nervous about this, so I hope to whatever deity exists that I don't fall flat on my face here.

Marsh Elves, Eilshar, the name was interchangeable for most. But for the natives of Paralas, they were just the Eilshar, semi-amphibious, carnivorous humanoids. Elves no longer existed anyhow, being long-gone ancestors of the Edden races. The Eilshar? They were a people all their own, virtually unchanged for millions of years outside of the loss of their slimy tails, and an increase in sentience.  
They were a proud people with a proud history, taller than the Norse but shorter than the shortest Giants. Stronger than the Sithis but weaker than the Arachne. Many admired the first race to walk the lands, and rightly so.

The Eilshar were, after all, children of the Queen Mother.

~

Bow in hand, quiver strapped horizontally, and a short sword for melee training. Yhanna was well prepared for her session today and hoped that Ash would be as well. “Mother!” She called to her elderly parent, a woman of the Mirrkana clan, an accomplished Shield-Maiden.  
“You needn’t inform me of every one of your activities, Ma’saara (My daughter), I am not your rule maker any longer. I know what you are going to be doing anyhow,” Arseil smirked, greatly amused by something she likely would refuse to let her daughter know. “Do tell Ashild I send my greetings to her Viir (Parents), the two of them returned home from their little excursion yesterday.”  
“It wasn’t an excursion, mother, they were visiting their homeland for a war.” Yhanna sighed in exasperation, turning to face the woman who layed her. Arseil was a beautiful woman, despite being nearly 9,000 years old and close to her fading day. Something seized in her chest, and she clamped down on it with fervor.  
Arseil had a stunning slanted gaze, with piercing white pupils that almost glowed. She was strong much like most Eilshar, lean muscle made for maneuverability, sinewy and strong legs that vaguely resembled a frog’s. Her mother’s teeth glinted and screamed predator, sharp and just barely serrated, black tongue peeking from behind its pointed veil. Finally, there was Arseil’s face. Torn and pointed ears that jutted from her head rigidly, the uniform blue skin of the Mirrkana glistening with semi-permanent moisture, high and regal cheekbones, and a smooth nose that melded with her face.

If only she was as beautiful as her mother.

“Right, right,” She responded in a bored tone, waving a clawed hand in dismissal. “Go train with your Norse friend, Yahnen only knows how much the poor girl needs it. I’ll be with your father for most of the day, Ma’saara, so don’t be surprised if you come home and we aren’t here.”

“Understood, Mi’vara (Dearest one).” Replied Yhanna with a smile, rubbing her head against Arseil’s in a goodbye before leaving the mound and heading for the training grounds.”

Yhanna passed the Cairn memorials on her way to the Training Grounds, decorated with strings of shining stones and emeralds, painted with the colors of the Thiikahir clan colors. Gold and Green. Quietly she walked among the mounds of stone, through the path that leads to walls of hardened dirt and clay, the interior of the Training grounds made flat with the same materials. At the far end, Yhanna spotted Ash, talking with...

“Father?” Yhanna called, curiosity coloring her tone. Wasn't her Ura (Father) supposed to be somewhere with her Luin (Mother)?

Quickly both individuals startled and instantly their attention was shifted onto her fast approach, Father looking nervous and Ashild smiling happily. “Hey, Nana! Are you ready to get started?” she seemed so happy to be working with Yhanna and learn from her apparent idol. Yhanna was, after all, the supposed best huntress in the Thiikahir Clan and the only one to have really accepted the Norse family’s presence in their little stagnant village. Older and more experienced than Ash’s parents, the daughter of the oldest living Eilshar warrior woman to date, knowing the girl since she was but a babe. It all added up to the Norse girl’s seeming admiration.  
Yhanna’s father, Utah, cautiously worked his way around the two in an attempt to evade his only child’s scrutiny. Much to his avail, however, the moment he reached the edge of her peripheral vision, Yhanna’s attention snapped to him faster than a rabbit bolt from danger. He stared, wide-eyed and awkwardly grinning.  
“Luin told me that you would be with her for a time and that it would be unlikely I’d see either of you until late. Why are you not with her right now, Ura?” Yhanna inquired in a deceptively calm tone. She loved her father, truly, but the man was a horrendous example of their Clan’s pride. Covered in an ugly combination of the Thiikahir blue-green and yellow and his father’s rare southern trait of dull grey-red of the Solkihrah Clan under his eyes, a lanky body with little of the Eilshar musculature, and finally a human-ish facial structure with unnatural almond-shaped eyes and a protruding nose.

He was ugly, unskilled, and considered a bastard among most Eilshar Clans.

But mother loved him anyway because he was sweet and caring and awkward and so unbothered by the negative light shed on him. Maybe Yhanna was too harsh as his daughter, but what was she to be expected to do? She was a Thiikahir, pride only held by her purely Thiikahir traits, and her mother’s status among the Clans.

“Nana?”

Right, time to end the tangent here, then, Yhanna mused before frowning once more at her father and silently dismissing him. She’d prod him for answers later, right now she had an adorable young Norse Warrior to train.  
“I’m ready,” She insisted, smiling softly at her young companion. “Do you want to train with your bow first, or do you want to hone your melee skills first? Your father has been getting rather desperate in his insistence that I teach you to wield a battleax.”

The little frown of displeasure on Ashild’s thin lips was adorable, were she to be honest.

“I already am a master with a broadsword! I want to master archery, I’ve no need for father’s incessant prattling about how heavy-duty weapons are superior,” A sigh escaped her and she visibly deflated. “Magic and archery, what a combination of things to despise, huh?” Ashild pulled on her blonde locks before pouting again, blue eyes trained on Yhanna’s own deep, angled gaze. “I’m training with the bow.”  
That was perfectly fine with her, as it was the most developed skill she had. Yhanna had no clue why Advarrson thought she was capable of teaching proper usage of the least-used weapon in Paralas. Too clunky, too heavy, and too messy. She’ll stick to her lightweight bows and swords thank you. Yhanna gave a simple nod and removed her bow from the snap holster on her back; convenient, that, easy to strap in, and just pull to get it out again. No fuss, no muss and so on.  
“Let us start with dummy arrows, grab some from the training chest over there,” She instructed, “You have been out of one-on-one training for a time now, so I want to see how you hold up since our last session, okay?” Ash only gave wordless confirmation as she retrieved the blunt wooden dummy arrows from the chest, finding herself entering that familiar training mindset the two women had grown into over the years, and, suddenly, time seemed to fly by. It was nighttime before either of them knew it, the three moons rising into the sky as round reflectors of light. It was beautiful, Ashild thought, as the Norse girl stared at the largest of the three, its Grey-blue surface lit up like a lantern, the heavens painting a speckled canvas of dark and light. Shades and colors of all kinds. “Tonight is blessed, Nana,” the girl said, dazzled by the display. “It is blessed by the Queen Mother, may we all rest well as we meet our makers in sleep.”  
Yhanna chuckled, but it was as fond and tender as her gaze, haunting dark eyes that twinkled in the moonlight trained on the strong but beautiful face of Ashild. There was pride there, within those void-like orbs, calm affection, a need, a burning desire to protect and yet still encourage her young companion’s adventurous nature. Yhanna could still see that rambunctious little girl, no higher than her knee, looking in awe at the Eilshar homeland. What child wouldn’t love the idea of what was essentially a giant pit of mud and water? “Yes, yes I suppose it is.” And it was, but in so many different ways for her than it was for Ash.  
It was time to go home, now. “Come on, I will take you to the market, you should be able to find home from there, yes?” Ashild just nodded, earning a gentle smile from the elder of the two. “Same time tomorrow?” Another nod. “Alright, let us get going then before the moons reach too high and your parents decide to pay us a visit.” And so they walked in silence to the market, shared a hug that was comfortably long, and Yhanna watched until the younger woman turned a corner before heading home herself, conflicting thoughts of admiration and… shame? Stuck in her mind.

She didn’t notice the rusty scent of blood until she reached the door.

The door, wide open, a deep blue substance shining in the intruding light- blood. Eilshar blood. On the packed mud floor of the home, she still shared with her Viir. “Ura? Luin?” Yhanna whispered into the creeping shadows, dreading what she might find, should she step inside. “Mi'vara…” A hand, just the hand, awkwardly rolled into view from the darkness. The shock was overwhelming Yhanna now, numbness filling her even as tears skewed her vision. That was… That was her mother’s hand, her Luin’s hand- The longest-lived Eilshar to date, thousands of years beyond the average lifespan, the strongest warrior of the five great clans, her mother, Luin, Mi'vara- “No..”

“NO!”

Tears spilled down her face as she sobbed, legs wobbling and falling out from beneath her. The last thing she saw before letting shock claim her consciousness, was the barely perceivable glassy eyes on a too still face, forever frozen in apparent terror.

“Mi’…vaara…”

Nightmares consumed Yhanna’s mind, memories twisted into terror, moments of love turned to tragedy.

“Yhanna! Run!” Her Luin called out as a shrouded figure raised a shadow-cloaked weapon, only to bring it down on her Viir with great prejudice. Unadulterated fear pierced her mind as eyes went glassy and a hand was severed from the rest of the body, corpse, corpse.

Just moments ago, her Luin was simply teaching her hand-to-hand combat, making horrendous jokes and lovingly defeating her young daughter without effort. Moments like those were coveted to young Yhanna, especially with the knowledge that her Luin was so old and, despite the healthy appearance, could die any day, any moment, for any reason. Even with the ability that grants her that amazing longevity.

Dead dead dead gone, she was dead, and Yhanna was alone. Where was her Ura? Where was her weak, pathetic excuse for a father!? He vowed to protect his Mate and be protected in return, so where was he now? Why…

“Go, GO!” No.

“RUN!” No.

“GET OUT OF HERE, YHANNA!”

NO!

When she woke, it was to a worried crowd of her kin, and Ashild. Their faces were grim, the clan leader, her Li-Lun (Grandmother) looked sorrowful, and her Uncle was crying into his Mate’s shoulders. Memories of what happened rushed back in painful succession, thoughts of blood and severed hands and death. Tears once again flooded her vision as she sat up, regarding the people around her. Quietly, almost too quietly; “What happened to my Viir, Li-Lun.”  
It was not a question, not a request, it was a demand. A demand that her Grandmother thankfully complied with. “It was a Cave Raven, the kind native to the Northern region of Paralas.” Mud-packer Ravens, then. Large, like Khuldir, but not quite as massive. Thin bodied, strangely jointed spines, disproportionate wingspan… Razor sharp beaks and talons…

“Nana,” Ashild spoke softly, cautiously.

“It’s okay, Nana, it’s going to be okay.” The Norse whispered with so much heavy emotion, voice wavering as she placed one leather-gloved hand on her semi-amphibious teacher’s shoulder. Yhanna looked into tearful blue eyes, blank-faced for all but a moment before giving in to tears. The elder of the two sobbed into her companion’s shoulder uncontrollably, breath hitching and catching, as the rest of the Thiikahir clan watched on solemnly.  
They did not mourn her father, his status was too… too tainted by his dirty heritage, his strange appearance. Utah was a Thiikahir by blood, but it was Arseil who they respected. But even though the rest of the Clan did not mourn him, did not mean she would do the same.  
Ashild stood by her, holding one blue-skinned hand in comfort as Yhanna held a separate ceremony for her Ura. It wasn’t like her Luin’s; no fanfare, no crowds of weeping relatives and friends, no feast of the flesh to allow his body and soul to walk the path of life and death, and certainly no burial of his bones, no… no respect for him. Just a dump into the largest patch of water, nothing more.

Yhanna hated the focus on status and purity in her Clan.

So, she molded a mound of clay, wrote a hymn from an old book of the gods, and performed a primitive ceremony involving humming mantras and an eight-day fasting. The entire time Ashild was making sure her health did not decline too dramatically and kept her company when the clay was sat on Arseil’s anchored headstone. “I…” Could she even say it, really? Could she bring herself to admit her feelings? “I hated you, father. I hated you with every fiber of my being for simply existing, for having been born from such unsavory conditions. You were weak, frail, and a constant reminder that not even Mother’s coveted status as a Mirrkana clan member could save us from judgment.  
“Mother married you, and that made them wary, then she was pregnant, and they feared I would be like you. Then I was born, and I looked like them, and I was made to be like them… I am a Thiikahir, a descendant of the strongest bloodline, daughter of a seer… And, yet, any confidence is labeled as arrogance, speaking of any small achievement is boasting, and I am still the offspring of a bastard in the end.” Yhanna heaved for breath, eyes closed tight and legs wobbling dangerously. Her voice hitched, and she exhaled on a sob.

“I love you, daddy.” She breathed tearfully.

Ashild walked her home silently, the bright sun in the sky an unwelcome contrast to the sorrow Yhanna has felt over the loss of her parents. “Nana,” Ash spoke softly as if afraid anything louder would break her elder companion. “I know what you could do, to ease your mind.” Yhanna looked at her blankly, but with a curious glint in her eyes.

“What could I do?” She asked. “What could I possibly do to ease this burden?”

“You could travel, see the world, become a sell-sword or a wandering hero,” Ash responded confidently. “You could do what you want with your life, for once.” She continued, smiling. There was a long pause before she spoke again.

“And you could take me with you.” 

The next morning it was settled, Ashild's excuses of watching over her distraught mentor were easily dismissed by both her parents and those clan members who were far too nosy for their own good. The Norse girl made her way to Yhanna's home, where blood still stained the ground and haunted the Eilshar huntress’s every nightmare, waking ones included. They spent most of the morning and afternoon planning their escape, with Ash saving face by worriedly going out to the market and putting on a show of 'how Yhanna is still having a difficult time getting back into eating meals after her fasting,' carefully noting how the villagers' faces scrunched up in distaste at the mention of the Eilshar woman's period of mourning. Their lack of compassion for a man who loved his family and died caring for them just cemented the idea of running away in Yhanna's mind.

She knew full well that her Li-Lun would never let her leave, Yhanna was a prisoner in this den of prideful beasts, put upon by expectation after expectation. The woman was being groomed into the perfect heir, her clan's 'light in the darkness' in wake of her father's unwanted conception. If they didn't want him, why did they even keep him? Why did they let the pregnancy go to full term?  
“Maybe it has to do with your Grandmother killing her lover to regain her honor and status,” Ashild suggested when Yhanna deigned to speak her thoughts aloud. It did make sense, as logically, her Grandmother would have first been pressured into terminating the pregnancy through... less than savory means. When she refused that, at the time feeling her motherly instincts rule her actions, she would have been given the choice of exile or kill her lover in ritualistic fashion.

Her Li-Lun decided to kill her lover, creating a blood-feud between the Thiikahir and the Solkihrah.

In the end, sadly, her Ura was shunned even by his mother who had fought to keep him, and from then on thought of him as nothing more than a ghost of her ignorance. It upsets Yhanna to think of how her Li-Lun would blame him for Khirath's demise, instead of accepting that it was her choice to murder her lover in hopes of regaining her honor, not her son's.  
Yhanna shook herself from that spiral of negativity, sighing and focusing once again on the plan: Escape and live her own life, instead of the set path her clan wishes to push onto her. She would be free if it was the last thing she did. She would leave this place and do what her Grandmother could not be free, not a... a pawn. 

The rest of the day after their plans were complete consisted of setting it into motion, and everything was perfect. They'd convince everyone that Ashild was staying with Yhanna for the night to make sure she took care of herself the next day, Ash would keep people from snooping by diverting their attempts at conversation, and then the two of them would hold up in Yhanna's home until nightfall. They did just that, spending the remaining time talking about what they'd do when they were free.

Ashild wanted to show Yhanna her homeland and to see to for herself, it's beauty and staunch wilderness, the way the sun shone on the horizon and how the stars lit up the sky like a river filled with gemstones. Dark and alluring, blazing with the reflective rapids and twinkling of precious stone. It was beautiful, she assured Yhanna, and all who showed respect to the land was welcome within Norse borders.  
However, the Eilshar woman had other plans for them. She desired to travel the world as much as she could. She wanted to see the countries and their races, their lands and ways of life. She wished to see the Raikur Edden's homeland, Ivekhin, and how even its water flowed black as tar, seen only by the light of Lantern Flies in the famed land of eternal midnight. Yhanna also wanted to see the deep jungles of Esthais, the country of snakes. The Sithis were such powerful creatures, unique and diverse. Yhanna wondered if the trees were truly so tall they blocked out the sun if the water was as crystalline as it was fabled to be. She wanted all these and more, and she wanted Ashild by her side.

“We can do this,” Yhanna spoke aloud, predatory eyes unfocused and expression distant. “We are doing this. We're free, at least we will be,” Her eyes filled with tears, mystified by the possibilities lying before her now, expansive and limitless. How far could she go? Across the countries? The Ocean? Are there other lands, out there beyond the distant shore? These were things she could discover if she desired to, as soon she wouldn't have to conform to her Clan's dictatorship. “We're free.”

Ashild's smile was oddly strained.

“We are,” She breathed out on a whisper. She couldn't believe it either, truly, it didn't seem real. Freedom? She'd never known the word. Her own description of her homeland was mostly from her parent's stories, and from family members making rare visits to see them. How could this be possible? Ashild took a deep breath, her smile now seems more confident now. “Free.”


End file.
